


Advice for the young at heart

by Potix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kid!Lock, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potix/pseuds/Potix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Kid!Lock one-shots collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An afternoon in the park

**Author's Note:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

It was a warm mid-June afternoon . The wind was blowing gently, moving the fragile branches of the few birches , and caressing the big oak's leaves . Sherlock Holmes was sitting by himself on the most secluded bench in the park ; a rather large bush was hiding him from the other kids .

_" They're so noisy, and predictable, and boring..."_  he thought, not for the first time, while flipping another page of his favourite book, " Treasure Island " by Robert Louis Stevenson . Oh, what would he give to be Jim Hawkins , fighting buccaneers on an island far away from home...far from his father, always so stern and austere...far from his brother Mycroft and Mummy , who always treated him like a kid .

He was not a kid . He was a very mature seven years old young man , who deserved a little more respect : he was going to be a pirate, for God's sake ! Mummy always encouraged him to behave like a "normal" kid , but he had no interest in chasing a ball in a field, or in using a swing ; if he used the park structures, (very rarely, he might add), it was only because he saw it as a training for when he would sail the Seven Seas . He was not a dull , ordinary kid : he was an extraordinary future pirate .

His considerations were interrupted by the noise of someone playing with the dirt under the bench ; Sherlock saw only then a little girl poking a dead snail with a little branch , just under his dangling feet .

" What are you doing ?" he asked brusquely, and the little girl ( short, probably five years old ; not very refined ,as he could observe from the patches on her jeans and the jam's smear just on her upper lip ) stopped dead in tracks .

" I'm- I'm sorry , I don't want to disturb you" she moved away from him .

Sherlock sighed . " Stop apologising . I find apologies annoying and unnecessary . Just answer my question: what are you doing ?"

" This snail is dead "

" Obviously - then why are you poking it ?"

She hesitated . " I just want to know how it died "

" Why ? "

" Do you always ask "Why" ?"

" Only when the other person is very obtuse or reticent " he retorted .

" Oh..." the girl's interlocutory answer showed him without doubt that she didn't understand his insult . Maybe he could use a different tactic .

" I can help you in your investigation about this mysterious death . I'm very clever , and my observation skills are very advanced " he offered . After all, he was re-reading his book for the third time, and was becoming rather bored .

" Really ?! Th-thank you !" the little girl dropped the little piece of wood and offered him a rather dirty hand . " I'm Molly Hooper "

" Nice to meet you , Molly " Sherlock said , but didn't shake her hand . This didn't seem to hurt her , and she smiled at him . " What's your name ?"

" The name is Sherlock Holmes . Now...shall we begin with the necropsy , Miss Hooper ?"

 

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. The mysterious disappearance of Teddy Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a silly and fluffy kid!Lock to help myself ride over my writer block. Inspired by the picture of Louise Brealey at "The world's end premiere" with a teddy bear clothed like Han Solo, and by my love of Star Wars since I was a little ten years old girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. George Lucas and Disney own Han Solo and the Star wars merchandise . I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

It was simply...outrageous . How could she, the plain and shy girl living in the suburbs, his only other friend besides John Watson, (the valiant and always trustworthy John Watson, that was currently on holiday with his family in Scotland...not so trustworthy, then) substitute the one and only, the great pirate Sherlock Holmes,  _with a teddy bear_  ?!

He might be only ten years old, but he had a valid knowledge of his own idiosyncrasies : he couldn't stand the smell of boiled broccoli, the sight of his brother Mycroft devouring a cake, and now he could add to the list the new, hideous Molly's Hooper best friend. Sherlock could imagine the mischievous smirk on its face, while Molly was hugging it . How could a teddy bear be better than him ? Alright, he knew sometimes he could be irritable, or hostile, or intolerant...but in the 99,9% of the times it was not his fault : it was only that the majority of kids, and adult, were insufferable idiots, and they needed to be corrected, or insulted...There were few exceptions : John, of course, and Molly, Sherlock could tolerate her much better now, after they had dissected a dead snail together. But now John was hiking with his grandparents, and Molly was probably playing with that worthless toy...kids. Sherlock Holmes didn't need them. So why was he still thinking about the smile on Molly's face when she had showed him the teddy bear, clothed like the character of some stupid movie ? Molly's father, a massive Star Wars fan, had bought it during a business trip in the US, and since that moment the little Hooper had not stop talking about it. During all this time, Sherlock had often felt the sudden urgency to take the bear, tear it apart and then bury it, so that Molly could finally see how much better playing with him was. He somehow resisted his own evil purposes, but with difficulty.

Two weeks after the unfortunate appearance of the infamous Teddy Solo in his life, his unspoken prayers were heard, and satisfied. Molly Hooper appeared on his threshold, her round face all puffy and red from all the tears she had already wept on the way from her house to his. Between the sobs and hiccups, Sherlock understood that her precious teddy bear had disappeared...vanished, like a fairy. Now she was asking him, no begging him, to help her to find it. It took him only half an hour to understand, from Molly's tale, what had happened, and to solve the mistery . Molly's father, after a few researches, had discovered that the funny bear he had bought at a thriftshop in California was instead a rare collector's gadget, much more valuable than he had thought at first, so he had decided to hide it away from Molly. Sherlock was in front of a dilemma: being selfish, and therefore not telling Molly the truth, to have her back, or being a honest friend, and help her retrieving her beloved toy? He had to make a choice.

" I'm sure your parents will be buying you another teddy very soon, Molly..." Sherlock tried to encourage her, even if the sentiment was almost foreign to him.

" Y-you don't- you don't understand, Sherlock ! He was my Teddy Solo !"

" It was only a toy, Molly- nothing of importance "

" He was important to me ! He was my space pirate teddy, he reminded me of-". Molly stopped abruptly, and lower her head, suddenly embarrassed.

" Of whom, Molly ?" Sherlock inquired, genuinely interested now.

" Of you ! Teddy Solo was a pirate, like you, and now I lost him, and one day I'm afraid I will lose you too !" she confessed, breaking down and crying again.

Sherlock remained silent, too astonished to say a word. The teddy bear, the obnoxious object of his hatred, was a personification of _him_  ? Did Molly just confess that she was afraid to lose him ? Why ?

" Why ? I'm not going anywhere, Molly..."

" But you will be...I can see John and you, having adventures together, being pirates around the seven seas...and I will remain home, because..."

" Because ?" Sherlock prompted

" Because...I don't count, Sherlock" Molly whispered the sentence. "I'm not important, not like John, or Mycroft. I'm only eight years old, but I can see things. I'm not intelligent like you, or brave like John, or...or sly, like Mycroft"

" Believe me, you don't want to be like Mycroft. He will  be obese before his twenties "

Molly smiled, and Sherlock took the chance to continue.

" But you were wrong, Molly ".

" I don't think so..."

" Yes you were, silly girl. Because you do count, you've always counted, and you always will. Besides, I think that being a pirate is a rather childish ambition. What do you think about a consulting detective ?"

Molly seemed quite puzzled. " Consulting detective ? I've never heard about it "

" It's because I invented the job. And you know what I will be needing as a consulting detective ?"

" An assistant ?" Molly's eyes were glowing at the perspective of being Sherlock sidekick.

" John is going to be my assistant, obviously..." Sherlock saw the smile fall from Molly's lips, but continued " No, I was thinking about a pathologist. Do you want to be my pathologist, Molly ?"

" A pathologist ? What is a pathologist, Sherlock ?"

" Sometimes I forget that you're only a child...it's a doctor, who works on dead bodies, to understand what make the human body stop functioning"

" Like we did on the dead snails ?"

Sherlock sighed, his patience coming to an end. " Yes, like we did on the snails. Now I repeat my questions: do you want to be my pathologist, Molly Hooper ?"

"Yes, Sherlock. Always."

It would be quite bizarre, how twenty five years later, Sherlock would use the same exact words to ask her to marry him. Her answer would be the same. " Yes, Sherlock. Always"

 

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Dissection or necropsy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked on Tumblr:"Molly meets Sherlock when they are kids. She finds him examining an animal, where is your choice. The first thing she says is "Are you doing a dissection or a necropsy?" Dissection is learning the parts of an animal, necropsy is how they died."
> 
> I've already written a similar Kid!Lock ("An afternoon in the park"), so I hope it's not exactly alike...anyway, enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

"Are you doing a dissection or a necropsy?".It wasn't the sudden question that startled the eleven years old Sherlock Holmes. It was the questioner.

He took an entire minute to deduce her. A girl, two years younger than him. An only child: no mother, but not an orphan...living with her dad, then. Avid reader; prone to clumsiness. Had a strawberry scone for breakfast. The mismatched socks, the crooked pigtail,the signs on her fingers, the bruise on her knee and the crumbles on her uniform...how could the others not observe the clues displayed before their eyes?And about her name...well, just one look at the bracelet on her left wrist, partially hidden by the sleeve, gave him the answer. Molly.

His prolonged silence seemed to unnerve her, because she started to fidget. He could add shy, and not very self-confident, to his portrait. How could a timid, self-conscious little girl, know even only the exact meaning of the words she had uttered before? He glanced briefly at the dead rabbit he was examining (dead from two days, cause of death: poisoning-its abdomen already sliced), and directed his attention to his companion.

"Do you really know the difference between a dissection and a necropsy, Molly?"

He saw the surprise, and the following "How do you know my name?" in her eyes, and he answered before she opened her mouth."The bracelet, too obvious. Now answer me".

Her voice was quivering, at the beginning, but with every words she acquired a certain self-confidence."Dissection is learning the parts of an animal, necropsy is to discover how they died". Straight to the point...good, he liked conciseness.

"Do you want to perform one?"

Her doe eyes opened wide."Which one?" she stuttered.

"First the necropsy. I already know how this rabbit died - it's obvious,even an eight years old could see the clues-but it's always better to have some other proof, just to show it to the most ignorant and dull people".

Molly didn't answer, simply remained still, looking at him in awe. Sherlock was tempted to say something rude to her(something simple,like the usual "Are you deaf, or simply stupid?" he used often with Anderson), but he decided to restrain himself. There was something curious about this young girl, that puzzled him. He didn't want to drive her away...he loved mysteries, after all.

"So?" he prompted her again, and this time she nodded."Very well, Molly. You will assist me in this post-mortem examination. Are you ready?"

"Y-yes, but can I ask you something, before we start?"

"I don't know, can you?" he retorted, and for the first time, he felt a tinge of remorse. His careless words made her eyes sad, strangely shiny...Sherlock Holmes then decided to do something he rarely did: he apologised."Sorry" he whispered, and instantly her eyes lightened up.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Sherlock". He waited for the usual mockery that had followed every time he had said his name to a stranger, but it never came. Molly simply smiled, and said something surprising, for the second time."Sherlock...what a beautiful name!". Yes, Molly was definitely a mystery worth his while.

 

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
